


Anything But Normal

by Badwolf36



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Complicated Relationships, Cuddling & Snuggling, Derek Feels, Derek Has Issues, Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fingerfucking, Fluff, Human Derek Hale, Humor, M/M, Multi, Naked Cuddling, Oral Sex, PWP, Panic, Porn with Feelings, Season/Series 04, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 13:43:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2271903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Badwolf36/pseuds/Badwolf36
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's questions before they start. A lot of them. But before Derek quite realizes it, both Braeden and Stiles are in his bed. He's still not really sure how it happened, but he's certainly not complaining about it. Freaking out a little, but not complaining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything But Normal

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this after "Time of Death." It was supposed to be a short, quick, dirty threesome between Derek, Stiles, and Braeden. More than 10,000 words later, and with Derek having a lot of emotions, this happened. I hope you enjoy it. Please leave a comment if you do. They are very much appreciated.

**Title:** Anything But Normal  
 **Fandom:** Teen Wolf  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Pairing:** Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale/Braeden  
 **Word count:** 10,133  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Teen Wolf or any related properties.  
 **Warnings:** PWP. Set in some strange, nebulous timeline between _"Time of Death"_ and _"Perishable"_.  
 **Summary:** There's questions before they start. A lot of them. But before Derek quite realizes it, both Braeden and Stiles are in his bed. He's still not really sure how it happened, but he's certainly not complaining about it. Freaking out a little, but not complaining.

 

“It doesn’t feel like normal,” Derek complains softly. The comment earns him twin snorts from Braeden and Stiles.

“That’s because you’re used to a different set of senses,” Braeden says, and it sounds suspiciously like she’s mocking him.

“Also, is anything in your life normal? Or any of our lives?” Stiles asks, although it’s obvious from the way he goes back to sucking Derek’s cock after he finishes talking that he doesn’t expect an answer.

Braeden obviously agrees with Stiles’ course of action because she starts teasing Derek’s nipples with her weapon-callused fingers. Derek admires the way her dark chocolate skin contrasts with his own tan, and the way they both contrast with Stiles’ paler, mole-speckled flesh.

Derek gives himself a moment to take in the sight of Stiles’ head bobbing between his legs, his pink lips stretching around the girth of Derek’s cock. He smirks when he sees that Stiles’ brown hair is sticking up at hundreds of crazy angles after they all ran their fingers through it (Stiles first in disbelief, and then he and Braeden as they alternately seized it to pull him into kisses). He takes in that sight, and the sight of Braeden pressed up against him, naked save for her black, leopard-print bra.

And then he slams his head back into the pillow, because the sight is frankly too much for him. He lets out the moan that’s been growing in his throat, a raw, guttural sound that echoes back from the vaulted ceiling of his loft. Braeden laughs with delight, and nips at his right pec, while Stiles groans around his mouthful. The vibrations through his cock make Derek jerk his hips up and force his cock deeper into the perfect, wet heat of Stiles’ mouth.

Stiles pulls off him with a cough two seconds after he does it. He sits back on his heels on Derek’s left side and wipes at his mouth with the back of his right hand. Before Derek can get out the apology he wants, he sees that Stiles is smiling, an expression he hasn’t seen in an extremely long time.

 _There had been_ conversations _earlier in the evening, where questions like “Aren’t you with Malia?” “Has anyone paid you enough to kill us?” “What are you two doing together?” “Want to have some fun?” and “Are you serious about a threesome? Really serious? Like, absolutely serious?”_

_They had been answered with “It’s sort of complicated. Really complicated, actually. Malia and I…we’re…she’s special. She’s important to me. But it’s extremely complicated right now.” “Not yet. And my personal price to kill you is even higher than that little dead pool. I must be getting soft.” “We…uh…I found her in the woods. And I sort of hired her to find Kate.” “What kind of fun are we talking about?” and “Yes, I’m serious. I like sex, especially when there’s a good chance we could all die. You two are hot, I know Derek has a full box of condoms because we just bought one, and I like a challenge. You two seem like a challenge. Now, are you in or not?”_

“That good?” Stiles asks, and he seems a little unsure, even if the smug look on his face belies that thought. Derek wishes, not for the first time, that he could still smell chemosignals like he used to. “I feel like I’m really a cocksucking prodigy. Feel free to affirm that belief. Maybe with a plaque. Or a coffee mug.”

Braeden laughs again, pushing herself up and knee-walking a few feet down Derek’s bed until she’s balanced across from Stiles. The unsurety that Derek suspected earlier manifests in Stiles as sudden shyness, with the younger man ducking his head down when Braeden gives him a onceover.

Despite that, Stiles still notices when Braeden beckons him closer, still leans forward and kisses her when she leans over Derek’s body to facilitate the union, which stretches on and on as they let their tongues slide against one another.

“Mmm,” she says when they break apart, panting. “You aren’t a half-bad kisser, I’ll give you that. And you taste like Derek, which is never a bad thing.”

She turns to Derek. “Better try him out for yourself. I know you’ve already kissed him a few times, but he’s definitely getting into the swing of it now.”

Derek stares at Stiles with what he knows are wide eyes. He’s never been one for questioning his sexuality, but Stiles awakens feelings in him (sometimes violent, angry feelings, among softer and stranger ones) that he’s finally concluding he should stop shoving away.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, definitely.”

Stiles gives him a small smile before crawling up the bed to reach Derek more easily. Hovering on his hands and knees, he hesitates for a moment, looking between Derek and Braeden.

Braeden holds her hands out in front of her, waving them dismissively once. “You don’t need my permission. Besides,” she grabs Derek’s right hand and positions the tips of his fingers against her clit, which is firm and the tiniest bit slick beneath his touch. “I think he can multi-task.”

Derek moves the pads of his pointer and middle fingers briefly against Braeden’s swollen clit before angling them lower and dipping them in up to the first knuckles in her tight heat.

“Angle up a little,” Braeden instructs him easily, sitting on her heels and arching her back as she braces her hands behind her on the mattress. “Oooo, there,” she moans, grinding her hips down until she’s taken his fingers all the way in.

Derek keeps his fingers moving at the same angle as he turns his attention back to Stiles. Stiles looks a bit stunned, like he can’t quite comprehend what’s playing out in front of him.

“Hey,” Derek says, quickly pulling Stiles’ focus back onto him. “I’d…uh…I’d like to kiss you.”

Stiles shoots him a look then, like he thinks Derek is being unreasonably adorable (it’s a look Derek has seen Stiles shoot Scott _a lot_ ) before he lies down next to Derek and presses his lips smoothly against Derek’s own.

And Braeden is right. Stiles _is_ a good kisser.

Derek has to struggle to keep his movements coordinated, let alone smooth. He finally finds some success when he starts thrusting his tongue into Stiles’ mouth at the same time he thrusts his fingers up into Braeden.

Braeden starts huffing out a low, repeating moan at roughly the same time Stiles starts whining in the back of his throat.

Derek still can’t believe this is happening in front of him, happening _to_ him. The feeling is so acute and terrifying that he has to pull away from Stiles.

“Hold out your hands! Show me your fingers!” he demands abruptly. On some level, he realizes that his fingers have slipped out of Braeden, but he’s too caught up in what he’s beginning to recognize as panic (it’s a weird, clenching feeling just below his heart).

Stiles looks stunned for a few seconds before he looks down at his hands and his amber eyes fill with realization. It looks remarkably like defeat.

“Ten fingers,” he murmurs, holding the long digits up for Derek’s inspection.

Derek studies them, finding that Stiles really does have 10 fingers, no more, no less. When he glances over at Braeden, she’s stopped moving and is holding up her hands in a mirror of Stiles’. She looks confused, but like she’s willing to roll with the punches.

“I’ve got 10, too,” she says. “And so do you. Although, feel free to reallocate a couple more of those to better use.”

Derek huffs and Stiles gives an honest-to-god guffaw as the mood is broken. Braeden gives them both a pleased smile. She places her hands on Derek’s chest and starts stroking up and down, occasionally just rubbing her fingers through a patch of chest hair. Once Derek relaxes a little, she trails one hand down to his groin, tracing a semi-circle around the flesh just above the base of his cock.

“You can also feel free to make requests,” she says when Derek makes a noise of curiosity. “I’m flexible. Stiles, are you flexible?”

Stiles is starting to get that stunned look again, but he still chokes out, “Yeah. Flexible. Totally flexible. Bendy, even.”

Derek snorts, then examines the pair hovering over him. “I’m really not sure I believe this is actually happening.”

Braeden hums, rocking slightly as she cups her breasts through the thin material of her bra and rolls what Derek knows are dark nipples between her fingers. “Oh, I’d believe it, Derek.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says. “Yeah, totally. Not a dream or anything. And if it is a dream, which it totally isn’t, it’s mine, because this is pretty damn amazing.”

“Yeah,” Derek says. He sits up, and briefly kisses Stiles, tracing his tongue over his teeth, before he breaks away from him and does the same to Braeden. Braeden captures his lower lip between her teeth when he draws back from her, and he can’t help the way that sends his whole body shuddering in pleasure. “Yeah, starting to believe it.”

They both grin at him. Braeden keeps playing with her breasts until she apparently gets bored. She slaps her hands down on her knees and turns her attention to Stiles.

“Stiles, what do you think we should do to Derek? I’m sure you’ve had a few ideas. Hell, I’m sure anyone who’s looked at him for more than a few minutes could probably fill a book with all sorts of ideas.”

Stiles looks like he’s overwhelmed by the sheer breadth of possibilities, and it sort of takes Derek’s breath away. When he looks over at Braeden, she’s glancing between him and Stiles, and she seems a little giddy at the prospects herself.

From this angle and with the moonlight streaming in through the loft’s windows, the scars on her body from where her neck was clawed through are luminescent. Derek decides he’s never seen a woman look more beautiful. He wants to tell her that, but he can’t find the words (it’s always been a problem of his) and he really doesn’t want to interrupt Stiles’ train of thought (the teen may be a hyperactive mess, but Derek has to admit that Malia’s right about him thinking like a detective — he thinks through all the scenarios, even the ones none of them want to consider).

“I want to do something he…I want to do something you’d like,” he says, switching to address Derek halfway through. He hovers his hands over Derek’s left forearm. “What would make you feel good?”

Derek leans into Stiles’ side as he sets his right hand over Braeden’s on her left knee and strokes his thumb over the skin of her fingers and her knee.

He takes a deep breath, then another, searching for the right words.

“I want this to be good. With everything that’s going on…I want this to be a good moment. For all of us. I…I don’t want to hurt either of you and I know I’m not really great with…ah…saying things and both of you are sort of amazing, but…uh…yeah, good, and uh…”

“I never thought I’d say this,” Stiles interrupts, “but you’re talking too much.”

He pushes Derek until he falls back against the mattress with an “ooof!”

“Just tell me or, I don’t know, whack me if you really don’t like something. I’ll get the message.”

And then he’s pressing himself up against Derek’s chest and slipping his tongue into Derek’s mouth, tempting him into a battle for dominance that Derek gladly starts trying to win. Braeden stretches out alongside him a little further down his body, her dark hair trailing over his abs and hips as she straddles his right leg just below his knee. The slick heat of her against his calf is a shock, but it’s nothing compared to the inferno she engulfs him in when her mouth descends on his cock.

Stiles had been enthusiastic, but Braeden has had _practice,_ most recently on him. She starts sucking at the head of his cock, flicking her tongue against the underside and occasionally against his slit in a way she had learned earlier drives him _wild._ He tries to buck up, but with his reduced strength and the weight of both Braeden and Stiles pinning him down, he doesn’t get more than an inch off the mattress before he’s being put back in his place.

“Mmmgh,” he says into Stiles’ mouth.

He reaches out, threading his left hand through the short brown locks of Stiles’ hair before he does the same with his right hand for Braeden, although he just leaves his hand on top of her head, letting her control the maddening, perfect, amazing, hellacious pace.

Braeden pops off him and says, “That’s definitely better, Stiles. Good idea,” before returning to her self-appointed task.

Stiles apparently takes that to heart, because he stops letting his hands idly rest against Derek. Instead, he starts teasing at Derek’s nipples, pinching and squeezing and rolling them between his deft fingers, and occasionally reaching down to toy with Derek’s balls when Derek draws up his left leg to give him access.

When they finally break apart, Stiles sucks in panting breaths, like he can’t quite get enough air. Derek does the same as Stiles ducks his face down to look at Braeden’s bobbing head.

“Braeden?” he asks tentatively. Derek whines when she lets him fall out of her mouth to look at Stiles directly. “Can I try something?”

“Knock yourself out,” she replies easily, her voice just the tiniest bit huskier than it was before, and Derek has to try really hard not to react to the fact that he did that to her (well, she did it to herself, but it was his cock that caused it, his body that made her react that way).

“Okay. Right.” Stiles hesitates for a moment before shifting forward in a way that reminds Derek of why he thinks of Stiles as a spaz.

He ends up at Derek’s hip, stroking a hand over his hipbone and following the dip of it up to the curve of his abs.

“You can…uh,” Stiles gestures at Derek’s groin with his free hand as he looks at Braeden. “Don’t let me get in your way. And if you have any objections to…uh, yeah, then same as I said to Derek.”

Braeden huffs out a little bit of a disbelieving laugh, which makes Derek arch as her warm breath teases the wet head of his cock.

She doesn’t give a verbal response to Stiles’ direction, instead drawing the head of Derek’s cock back into her mouth in such a slow, sensual way that she makes both Derek and Stiles groan.

Stiles continues tracing too-light touches over the contours of Derek’s body, avoiding the bandaged bullet graze and softly scratching at Derek’s skin with his blunt nails in a way that stings and doesn’t immediately fade. Apparently, what he’s lost in heightened senses, he’s gained in lasting sensations.

“You…” Derek groans out, and he has no idea which one of them he’s talking to.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, and he sounds pleased. Braeden just hums and twirls her tongue around his cockhead in a way that makes Derek slam his head back against his pillow and writhe among the sheets as best he can. His calf is smeared with more slick as Braeden rides the appendage, and he clumsily pats at her head.

And then the sensation around his cock changes, a pressure that wasn’t there before squeezing around the base of his cock before one point of pressure slips in beside him in Braeden’s mouth, using her saliva to glide up.

Derek has to physically look down before he can parse out what’s going on, and even then it takes him a moment to process that Stiles is tracing the line of Derek’s dick _inside_ Braeden’s mouth.

Braeden pulls off for a bit, catching her breath as she studies Stiles. Stiles freezes with his left pointer finger balanced against the slit of Derek’s cock, holding the stiff flesh aloft. He looks like he’s afraid he’s overstepped his bounds, but he’s also got a shrewd, assessing look on his face beneath the fear (and frankly, it’s that face that scares Derek).

Derek whimpers as the standoff continues, precome beading up around the pad of Stiles’ finger.

Braeden finally smirks, rolling her wrist so that her hand makes a sort of ‘by your leave’ gesture at Stiles. She then ducks back down, flattening Stiles’ finger alongside Derek’s cock as she sucks them both in deep. The feeling it creates is weird and sort of wonderful and Derek doesn’t know what to do except moan.

Stiles, on the other hand, chants “Bad angle, oh, super bad angle,” as his wrist bends awkwardly. Braeden sits up, laughing as she wipes away the spit from her lips (it’s really slobber, if Derek is being honest, but he finds it hot and he knows better than to call it that out loud, lest he offend one or both of his bedmates).

“Smooth move,” she says, still laughing.

Stiles’ cheeks pink and he rubs the hand that had been on Derek and inside Braeden against the back of his neck. Even though he can’t smell it, watching Stiles rub their combined scents into his skin makes Derek preen (it also fills him with a profound sense of loss, because he _can’t smell it_ and he _wants to_ , should be _able to_ ).

“Okay, so, theory doesn’t exactly always create working results. Sue me,” he says.

“I’d rather fuck you.” There’s silence after that, until Derek finally realizes he was the one who said that. “Oh. Uh.”

“Dude,” Stiles says, and he sounds like Derek’s punched him.

“I could definitely enjoy that show,” Braeden says, pressing her hands against Derek’s hips and using the leverage to rock her clit against his kneecap. Derek feels a bit scandalized (and god, he’s so screwed up about sex and intimacy), but he’s got two people in his bed, so he figures a little voyeurism was probably part of the package.

Braeden continues with “What do you say, Stiles? I can guarantee the ride is better than that rattletrap thing you call a vehicle.”

“Don’t insult Roscoe,” Stiles snaps distractedly. He takes Derek’s left hand with his left, threading their fingers together before caging their hands in with the fingers of his right hand.

“Are you…do you…me?”

Derek sits up without using his hands, a motion that earns him a groan (Stiles) and an appreciative hum (Braeden).

“Yeah.” There’s more he wants to say, more he _should_ say, but he’s decided to adapt Braeden’s policy of bending when needed and taking what he wants when it’s in front of him. And he can admit, even with Braeden in front of him (perhaps _because_ Braeden is in front of him) that he _wants_ Stiles.

He shoots a look at Braeden, who gives him a wicked smile in return. She’s…really sort of incredible. He turns back to Stiles, moving his trapped hand so it’s tilting Stiles’ chin up and back.

“Yeah,” he says again.

Stiles looks like he can’t quite believe what’s happening, even though they’re all pretty much naked and Stiles’ hard cock is leaving a smear of precome against Derek’s bare hip. Derek wants Stiles to be comfortable, to be powerful in his own skin in the way Stiles used to be before the Nogitsune wore it. He worms a finger free of Stiles’ grip and uses it to trace Stiles’ Adam’s apple, which bobs beneath his touch as Stiles swallows heavily.

“I could…if you’d…do that. I am totally on board with that.” He looks down at Derek’s groin, and Derek’s cock twitches, slapping against his abs. “With a lot of lube.”

Braeden laughs out loud at that. “You’re running this show,” she says when Derek looks at her in askance. “Totally fine by me. How do you want us?”

Derek works his jaw, overcome by a surfeit of choice.

“I want to watch you stretch yourself out for my cock,” he points to Stiles with his free hand, “but I don’t want to stop you enjoying yourself either,” he says as he points to Braeden.

“Well,” Stiles pipes up with what Derek suspects is bravado, “based on plenty of porn viewing, I’d say we start with you,” he waves at Derek, “getting me all wet for your frankly intimidating cock, while I go down on you, Braeden.” He gestures wildly as he adds, “If that’s okay with you. Totally fine if it’s not. I get that I’m not like, ‘Whoa! Need to nail him!’ but I’ve gotten decent reviews and…and I’m going to shut up now.”

Braeden eyes Stiles again, and then looks at Derek as she asks, “Does he always talk this fast?”

Derek lets an amused smile curve his lips as he eyes Stiles himself. Stiles’ whole body twitches, and he crosses his arms protectively over his chest, drawing into himself. And that’s not what Derek wants at all. He slides the finger on Stiles’ neck down to the hollow of his throat, pressing lightly into the vulnerable space and locking his eyes with Stiles’ as he responds to Braeden’s query with, “Always.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Braeden lick her lips. “Move your tongue like that on my clit, and we won’t have any problems.”

Stiles squeaks, but nods, pressing Derek’s finger even further into his throat.

Braeden motions for Derek to hand her a pillow, which he does. “Lube’s in bedside table,” she says as she tucks the pillow at the foot of the bed and finally unhooks her bra. Her breasts spill free, and Stiles’ attention immediately drops to them as she tosses the garment aside. Derek can’t blame him; Braeden is worth admiring. She’s rough and gorgeous where Stiles is stalwart (not that he’d be that kind to himself after what happened with the Nogitsune) and beautiful in a way Derek has never been able to define.

“You’re…uh…is it super weird to say you’re gorgeous?” Stiles asks, again rubbing the back of his neck.

Braeden gives him a kind smile. “You’re a sweet guy, Stiles.” She hesitates, which attracts Derek’s attention. He’s never seen her do that in the short time he’s known her. “I hope…try to hold onto that, as much as you can.”

Derek hears Stiles’ throat click, and for a (desperate) moment, he believes his hearing is reverting back to the way it should be, not this dampened facsimile he’s stuck with. But he realizes that it’s not the case when he sees the devastated look on Stiles’ face that he quickly tries to hide with a shaky smile and a jagged laugh.

“So,” he says. “Feel free to give me instructions on how to make this good. I’ve…uh…not got a lot of practice.”

 _Malia_ , Derek thinks briefly, then wonders if Stiles is regretting what they’re doing together. But he’d said they were complicated and Derek remembers other guys on the high school basketball team who hopped from girl to girl. Derek is pretty sure Stiles is not the type to do that, but he’s also never really given Stiles all the credit he deserves (either as a pack member, or as a person he, sort of, cares for and wants to protect).

“Are you sure, Stiles?” he asks, and again he’s shocked to find he’s spoken.

Stiles turns his full attention to him, and Derek takes the time to study the dark circles under Stiles’ eyes before looking at Stiles’ eyes themselves, which are full of some emotion Derek might call gratitude, but he can’t positively identify it without his nose helping him along.

“All the way, Derek,” he says finally, after Derek’s sure he’s analyzed absolutely every permutation of what comes next. “I want anything you’ll share with me. Both of you.”

Derek sees Braeden nod and he honestly has to blink hard a few times to disperse the water (not tears, never tears) filling his eyes. His control on his emotions has gotten even more tenuous as his senses have dulled.

“Sounds good to me,” he says when he thinks he can speak without his voice cracking like it did when he was a teenager.

Stiles smiles at him, but it’s softer than his grins from earlier, tempered in a way that Derek finds himself drawn to.

“Lube?” Stiles asks, and Derek snorts before rolling over and fishing around in the drawer of his bedside table. While he’s occupied, Stiles slings a leg over his chest, narrowly avoiding kicking Derek in the ear.

“Is this what you were thinking, Braeden?” he asks as he pulls Derek’s legs apart and plants his elbows on the mattress just inside of Derek’s knees as his own knees end up on either side of Derek’s chest. Braeden slides her legs over Derek’s own, her feet ending up by his hips as her legs spread wide. “Oh. Wow.”

“Do continue,” Braeden says as she punches the pillow into shape so she can prop herself up enough to watch them both. “A girl never gets tired of compliments. Or jewels. Or Italian shoes. Or oral. So…”

“Oh, right!” Stiles says. He goes down on his forearms, and Derek’s mouth goes abruptly dry and he sits back up with the lube bottle and finds Stiles’ pert ass waggling around in front of his face.

Derek smoothes a hand from the tip of Stiles’ tailbone up to his neck, curling forward so he watch Stiles’ body bow down. If he sits up, he can see the way Stiles’ head is moving between Braeden’s thighs, his neck bent at an odd angle so he can lick into her. And from the blissful expression on Braeden’s face, that’s exactly what he’s doing.

“Fingers,” she says as she lets her head fall bonelessly back over the edge of the folded pillow. “If you can balance. And try for circular strokes. Vary it up. Aaaah! Like that.”

Derek shudders. He’s been able to ignore his urgent need to rut, to come, but the pleasure building up in him from Stiles’ and Braeden’s previous actions and just watching them, is pushing his lust to new (and almost unbearable; how do humans stand this?) heights.

He fumbles with the lube cap without looking at it, too concentrated on Braeden’s face and the curve of Stiles’ back as they start moving together. And Derek wants to be part of that, he wants (god, how he _wants,_ when he thought he’d never want again after what Kate and Jennifer did to him) to move with them.

The lube squirts out over the fingers of his right hand in a messy squiggle, and he barely remembers to rub them together to warm the gel before he presses them to Stiles’ hole, circling the rim with his fingertips.

Stiles whines, and Braeden moans a little. “Oh, do that again,” she says, and Derek isn’t sure who he’s talking to, but he figures she’ll get the same result either way, so he presses down a little harder on Stiles’ rim, tearing his gaze away from Stiles and Braeden so he can concentrate on the way Stiles’ muscles flex, the way the tight furl of his asshole yields a little to the pressure as Derek starts teasing the tip of his pinky finger inside him.

“Oh god,” Stiles moans, the words coming out muffled against Braeden’s flesh.

“Don’t be shy,” Braeden says, sounding breathy. “Fingers are go…mmmm…od!” Stiles shifts and the arc of his back changes as he moves his right hand into position. Derek times it so that the first time Braeden moans at what’s obviously Stiles’ fingers sliding inside her, he slips his lube-slick pinky all the way into Stiles’ body.

“Unnngh!” Stiles says, and he shoves his body back toward Derek. “That is…it’s weird, but it’s hot and…gah!”

His hips start fucking forward into the air before shifting back again. Derek curls his left hand around Stiles’ hip, but it’s another reminder of what’s been done to him (what she, what _Kate_ did to him) when he can’t effortlessly hold him still. But it’s harder to care when Stiles is so eager, so pleased.

“This. Is. Awesome!”

“Back to work, Stiles,” Braeden says, although she gives the command with a laugh. “And Derek, stay on task here.” She props herself up on her elbows and gives him a look that’s entirely too insightful. “Eyes on the prize, Hale.”

Derek snorts, but he pulls his fingers out of Stiles, adds more lube, and then pushes back into the yielding body hovering above his with his index and pointer finger. Stiles squeals a little, which shouldn’t be attractive, but is. Braeden grabs the younger man’s hair and directs him back to where she wants him, which is planted firmly between her legs.

“Angle up with your, ah, fingertips. Sort of a ‘come hither’ gesture. Ah, yes, like that, mmm. Keep the press….ooooo…ure on there. Rub.” Derek’s cock is standing almost straight up and dribbling precome down the side. Apparently, he has a bit of a competency kink, and Braeden’s mashing that particular button hard. He just hopes that he and the other members of Scott’s pack are never on her target list.

To distract himself from that frankly worrying thought, he fucks Stiles shallowly with two fingers before flirting the tip of a third at his rim.

“Der…ek!” Stiles whimpers, and his words are again muffled, but clearly heard. Braeden’s started panting now, and Derek knows from earlier that that means she’s getting close.

“So good, Stiles. Doing such a good job,” he croons, and he’s proud of himself for speaking, and for the way that Stiles jerks hard in his grasp at the praise. Kate had prodded him with words that it took him years to understand were more taunts and jeers than affection, and Jennifer had preferred to keep his mouth occupied with her tongue when he wasn’t telling her how beautiful she was (and maybe the face she’d shown him had been her real face once, but he should have been able to feel the lie behind the magic of her lips, and he hadn’t — another failure that had led to the death of others).

“Keep going,” Braeden pants out, “Oh. Oh! Aaaahh!” she doesn’t scream, but it’s close, and Derek slides a third finger into Stiles as Braeden’s hips start jerking against Stiles’ face. Braeden’s legs tremble on top of Derek’s own and Derek wants to encourage Stiles to keep that up, keep her orgasm going. But Derek can see the way Stiles’ shoulder moves as he keeps thrusting his fingers into Braeden, so it’s obvious he doesn’t need Derek’s guidance.

Stiles is still chasing his own pleasure, too, as he slams backward and then pulls off of Derek’s fingers, only to repeat the cycle again and again. Derek wonders if it’s the ADHD that lets Stiles multitask like that, then decides he doesn’t care if it means Stiles is capable of all of this at once.

Braeden finally shoves Stiles’ head away when her moans start sounding more wounded than pleased, and Derek admires the way her sweat-soaked skin glistens in the moonlight. He wishes he could smell properly yet again, because even though he can smell the arousal thick in the air, the sour-sweet taste of her on the air-conditioned breeze in the loft, it’s not enough, not quite right when he knows there should be more, that there _is_ more.

He whines softly in his throat, and tries to put his energy into finding a small nub of nerves in Stiles that he’d read about in a medical textbook he’d picked up in a bookstore one day after realizing that humans might be part of his pack (with all their vulnerabilities and weaknesses). It’s an unpleasant shock to his system to realize that everything he read in that book now applies to him, but he stuffs the thought down, as he’s been trying and failing to do with all his other unpleasant thoughts.

He knows he’s been successful at finding Stiles’ prostate when Stiles clenches down tight around his fingers, his back arching in reverse until he’s a perfect arch over Derek and Braeden’s spread legs.

Speaking of, Derek feels Braeden move her right leg off the top of his own after the aftershocks stop shaking her muscles. He feels the mattress dip between his legs, and then there’s pressure against his balls and the base of his cock as her foot presses up against him and starts steadily rubbing.

“Oh,” he says faintly.

“What?” Stiles asks, and lets his head hang down so he can look at the scene playing out beneath the frame of his body. “Oh.”

When Derek gathers his wits enough to peer around Stiles to Braeden, she’s got her arms crossed behind her head on the pillow and she has her eyes shut, although she’s moving her foot like she knows precisely how to in order to make him grunt (maybe she does; she was pretty thorough earlier when it was just the two of them).

“That’s…startlingly hot,” Stiles says when Derek’s hips buck forward into Braeden’s foot. She twists it down and around, balancing his balls on the tops of her toes and bouncing them lightly until he growls. “Yup. Hot.”

Stiles whines when Derek thrusts his fingers into him hard for his cheek, his body twisting around above Braeden until his elbow slips and he almost does a face-plant into her stomach. He doesn’t only because Braeden catches him with her hands just above his collarbones as Derek slides his left hand over Stiles’ ribs, arresting his motion.

“Hnnngah,” Stiles says eloquently as the change in angle jabs Derek’s fingers hard into a spongy spot.

“I think he likes that, Derek,” Braeden says as she eases Stiles down so his face is once more against her pussy. “Keep it up. I’ll do my best to make sure he doesn’t suffocate.”

Derek smirks, although he’s not sure Braeden can see and he knows Stiles can’t. He angles his fingers toward that soft, yet firm, part of Stiles and starts gently rubbing at it, keeping the pressure on the spot unrelenting. He drizzles more lube over his fingers and Stiles’ hole, which is gaping open the smallest bit.

Stiles’ muffled gasps are incredible to listen to, and Derek covets each and every one of them, just as he does Braeden’s unrestrained cursing as Stiles apparently sets about worrying at her flesh lightly with his teeth.

He trails the pointer finger of his free hand up the vein on the underside of Stiles’ cock, over Stiles’ full, warm testicles, and then rubs hard at the skin between his balls and where Derek has him spread open on his fingers. He keeps those fingers moving as he does it, enjoying the pleased sounds Stiles is making because of him.

And then Stiles lets out an incredibly filthy moan and stiffens underneath Derek, his body clamping down like a vise around Derek’s fingers.

“Ooooh god,” he whimpers as his body starts jerking in the throes of orgasm. Derek is stunned into stillness for a moment, but apparently Braeden has no such reaction. She sits up a little, which regretfully means her foot leaves off playing with Derek’s cock and balls. While Derek can’t see it, he’s pretty sure her fist is now wrapped around Stiles’ spasming cock if the way he tightens up even more is any indication. “Deeeeereeeek.”

“I’m not sleeping in the wet spot, by the way,” she says to Stiles as Derek watches her shoulder move as she apparently keeps jerking Stiles through his orgasm, “but I will say that you have the cutest orgasm face of anyone I’ve ever slept with.”

She winks at Derek. “Not that you weren’t cute. You were. Very.”

“Hhhngh,” Stiles adds.

Derek pulls his fingers out of Stiles slowly, rubbing at his rim from the inside before he pulls them free completely. Stiles goes boneless a moment after, slumping forward until he ends up with his face against Braeden’s stomach and his hips barely propped up. Braeden squeaks as she barely manages to extract her hand out from under Stiles in time to avoid being crushed.

“Br’ke me,” he mumbles. Braeden laughs, ruffling his hair with both hands.

She lowers her voice, but even with his human hearing, Derek still hears her murmur, “Just wait until he fucks you.”

Derek and Stiles both let out a noise at that, Stiles a moan and Derek a harsh grunt as he tries to keep from coming.

Braeden laughs again, stretching one arm out and propping her head up on it and the pillow as she threads the fingers of her other hand through Stiles’ hair and tugs lightly. Stiles whimpers, and wiggles his whole body when he tries to bury his face in her stomach.

Turning a challenging grin in Derek’s direction, Braeden says, “You are gonna fuck him, right? I’m finding a whole new appreciation for live-action porn.”

Derek snorts, but slicks his cock with lube, gritting his teeth to try to stave off his orgasm. Sex hasn’t felt this good in a long time, and even just the feeling of his hand on himself is scintillating in a way it hasn’t been in ages.

Extricating himself from the pile of limbs they’ve twisted around one another is a feat, but he manages it with only a few grunts from his bedmates.

“Sens’tive,” Stiles mutters as Derek sets his knees on the outside of Stile’s calves. He strokes his still-wet fingers down Stiles’ crack, enjoying the way the younger man shudders when his fingers briefly dip into his stretched hole before batting lightly at his balls and his half-hard dick.

“Think you can come again?” Derek asks as he circles the base of his own cock with his fingers, squeezing hard to keep from spending himself all over Stiles’ pale ass cheeks. “Maybe Braeden will be nice and play with you again? Would you like that?”

“‘nything ‘ld be nice.”

Derek laughs. That’s another thing that’s felt good lately. Laughing and smiling and he’s not sure why it feels freer now, but it does. He wipes his hand off on the already stained sheet before settling his hand at the base of Stiles’ spine, his thumb flirting with the thin skin just above Stiles’ hole.

“I’m going to slide into you now, Stiles. I’m gonna go slow, but you tell me if you need me to stop, okay?” There’s a long pause where both he and Braeden wait for an answer. More forcefully, he repeats, “Okay?”

“‘K.”

“I’m serious, Stiles.”

Stiles flails a bit, trying to right himself. Braeden moves her hand from his hair to his shoulder to help shove him upright. Stiles sways on his hands and knees for a moment before twisting around to face Derek. His pupils are blown wide, only a thin ring of amber surrounding them, and the entire bottom half of his face and the bridge of his nose is wet (it takes Derek a moment to realize that he’s covered in Braeden’s release. His cock twitches when he does).

“I know you are,” Stiles says. “Now kiss me before I get all self-conscious about the fact that I’ve already come. And then, you know, sex.”

Derek lets out a short laugh, because there’s really no other reaction he can have to a statement like that. Braeden is trying to stifle giggles, and doing a terrible job of it.

Stiles’ face sinks a little, and that’s not what Derek wants at all. He braces his right hand on the covers, curls himself over Stiles’ body in such a way that his cock rubs between Stiles’ thighs, and captures his lips in a kiss sweeter than any they’ve shared so far.

Derek drags the tip of his tongue over Stiles’, tasting Braeden’s salt-sweetness on top of Stiles’ natural salt (and how he wonders what those flavors would be like if his senses were normal — he’s a werewolf, human senses are _not_ normal).

But the regret over his lost senses doesn’t stop him from breaking off the kiss to murmur, “Perfect.”

There’s a soft sigh from Braeden and Derek finds it a bit strange to have an audience (he’d never been one for public displays of affection — a natural inclination for shyness that Kate had exploited over and over in order to hide what they were doing from the rest of the Hales). But Braeden isn’t Kate, even if she hunts sometimes. He keeps reminding himself of that as he pushes his head against Stiles’ own until he can hook his chin over the younger man's broad right shoulder.

“Do you want a better position? For the…uh…,” he hesitates, then cringes as he resorts to Stiles’ terminology, “the sex?”

Braeden lets out a delicate snort and Derek is pretty sure she’s rolling her eyes.

“What do you think, Stiles?” she asks. “Want to do a little rearranging?”

Derek traces a line down Stiles’ spine while he hums in thought. It’s strange to see him like this, vulnerable and yet strong. _This is what humanity is,_ he realizes. _People who are breakable, but keep fighting back with everything they have._

“I’d…uh…I’d sort of like to see Derek. If that’s…I mean, not that you’re not great here and…well…” But Braeden is already sitting up, ruffling Stiles’ hair before she slithers her way out of their tangle of bodies.

“I’d look at him, too,” she says as she stands and stretches briefly. She eyes them both up and down when she drops her arms, her gaze heated. She licks her lips. “It’s a hell of a picture.”

She shoves the pillow she’d been resting against forward so that it covers the wet spot. “Flip over. Hips on the pillow. I hope you’re as flexible as you said you were.”

Stiles does as he’s told, nearly kneeing Derek in the face in his haste. Derek’s eyes keep flicking between Stiles spreading his legs and Braeden dipping three fingers into her mouth before rubbing the wet digits between her legs.

“Uh,” he says, and he sort of wants to smack himself when Braeden and Stiles’ attention switch from their self-appointed tasks to him. He tries to think of something intelligent to say, but he’s at a loss for words.

“You want a condom for him, Stiles? Makes the cleanup a whole hell of a lot easier,” Braeden says to Stiles when Derek doesn’t manage to say anything after a minute.

Stiles’ body, already flushed, goes a deeper shade of red, particularly his cheeks. His cock, still wet and a similar shade of red to the rest of him, also twitches with renewed interest.

He turns a shy look on Derek before he says, “I’d…uh…think I’d be okay with you. Coming inside. I’m sure I’ll regret it later when things are drying and terrible, but it sort of sounds insanely hot and…yeah. If you’re into it, I’m totally not going to say no. Well, no to the condom if you say yes. Or no. Totally cool either way and…”

“Stiles,” Derek growls, and his vocal cords don’t make the sound in quite the same key anymore, but he still manages it with enough authority to make Stiles’ teeth snap together with a _click_.

Well, for a moment.

“God, that’s hot.”

“Braeden?” Derek questions as he wraps his hands around Stiles’ ankles and tugs him a little farther down the bed.

She doesn’t bother to pause her motions, instead rocking her mound against her cupped palm. “Mmm, yeah?”

“Are you…are you okay with watching this round? I’d…ah…concentration is still tough.” He can’t think of any other way to say that he’s constantly distracted by the lack of sensory input where there should be heightened senses.

Braeden seems to take it in stride. “Derek, if I didn’t know how to get myself off, I’d have been in big trouble long before now. You two take a ride.” Her eyes glaze over for a moment before she shakes her head and adds “Actually, you should totally have Stiles ride you. Bet he’d look pretty bouncing on your cock.”

Stiles jerks beneath him at that, letting out a moan that would make Derek worry about a noise complaint (and a visit from the Sheriff) if he had neighbors. (There’s plenty of good reasons that he owns the entire building. This just happens to be another one.)

“Oh, that’s definitely happening,” Braeden decides. She gets back onto the bed after grabbing two more of Derek’s pillows, settling halfway down on their right side. She tucks one pillow behind Stiles’ head and the other behind her own, then sets her left hand on her breasts and shoves the right one back between her legs. “Don’t let me stop you,” she says when she notices both Derek and Stiles looking at her.

“Thanks for the permission,” Derek says dryly. He runs his hand over his cock a few more times, redistributing the slick before guiding it to Stiles’ entrance with his right hand. His left goes on Stiles’ right knee, holding it out just slightly as Stiles’ vacillates between pulling his legs back to his chest and clamping them down on Derek’s ribcage. “Ready?”

Stiles sucks in an unsteady breath, but his gaze is clear and his voice doesn’t waver when he says “Absolutely.”

Derek takes him at his word, using his hand to guide the head of his cock into Stiles’ hole. Stiles’ breathing starts vacillating again, but he nods his head when Derek looks at him.

For Derek, the pressure around his cock is incredible. Stiles is hot and slick inside, and his body grips Derek in a way both like and completely unlike Braeden’s. Braeden, lazily stroking her clit when he looks over, smiles sweetly at him.

“Hell of a view,” she says quietly. Derek pushes forward a little, letting another inch of his cock move from his fist into Stiles’ body.

“Holy shit,” Stiles moans. “I know you’re going slow, but…”

“Too much?’ Derek asks, and instantly starts to withdraw, only to have Stiles toss his heels against the small of Derek’s back.

“Yes! I mean, no. I mean…I don’t know what the hell I mean. But just stay there.” Derek snorts, but does as he’s been told, circling his hips a little to try to get them both used to the feeling. Stiles’ hands fly out and he ends up wrapping one of them around Braeden’s left ankle. He leaves it there when she doesn’t say anything, just holding onto her.

 _Sort of like an anchor,_ Derek realizes. _Something to ground himself._

“You owe me a kiss when you’re all the…ungh…way in. You’re definitely flexible enough for that. Also, you’re sort of going to…hunh ah…bend me in half anyway.”

“I can do that. A kiss once your sweet ass swallows up all of my cock.”

Braeden laughs at that. “You totally got that from porn, didn’t you?”

Derek feels some of the blood that’s not in his cock rush to his face. “Shut up.”

Stiles and Braeden both laugh at that, Stiles’ turning into a moan when Derek slides a little bit deeper with all the jiggling around.

“Derek,” he whines, his hips jerking forward and back just a little bit, like he can’t decide which sensation he likes more.

Braeden spasms beside them, and Derek figures she must still be sensitive from her last orgasm if she’s already managed another one.

“Damn,” she groans and Derek lets go of his grip on his cock to reach over and twist one of her nipples between his fingers. Hard. “Asshole,” she hisses, but her hips buck off the bed, so he figures she doesn’t really mind.

Derek releases her nipple, which prompts another hiss and Braeden smacking his right ass cheek lightly before she takes over twisting her nipples herself. Derek sets his hand down to the right of Stiles’ ribcage and concentrates on thrusting into the younger man, a slow rocking of his hips that gets him deeper and further into the body beneath him.

Stiles responds by squirming, moaning, and honest-to-God whimpering until Derek is folded over Stiles, his hips flush with the younger man’s ass and Stiles’ now-hard cock brushing against his abs.

“Hi,” he says a bit nonsensically when he sees Stiles looking up at him with awe.

“Hi,” Stiles says, waving a bit with his free hand.

“It’s like a rom-com,” Braeden muses. “Except with more supernatural shit and murder.”

Stiles snorts. “Totally.” He shifts his hips a bit, like he’s not really sure what he wants to do next. Derek grunts at the feeling of Stiles’ rim gripping hard around the base of his cock.

“Stiles,” he asks (not whines), “can I move?” Stiles rocks back and then forward a little bit and Derek hisses. “Please?”

“Yes,” Stiles pants out. “God, yes.”

Derek pulls out halfway before he slides back into Stiles, marveling at the way Stiles’ body clutches at him.

“Good,” he mutters.

“Is he tight?” Braeden asks, voice breathy.

“Yeah,” Derek answers. “And hot.”

“Oh god,” Stiles whimpers. He throws his arm over his face, which is turning red. “Unh, this is…this feels…sooo good.”

“He’s big, isn’t he, Stiles?” Braeden asks, apparently settling in to give a filthy running commentary as she continues to pleasure herself. “Spreads you out wide, right?”

“Unh-huh,” Stiles answers, head flopping up and down in agreement as Derek picks up his pace a little. He had had some vague notion in the back of his head that he was going to take this easy, really take the time to savor the experience. But his pleasure and his companions’ noises are spurring him on faster and faster.

“Clench down,” Braeden suggests before sighing. “Man, I wish had brought my harness with me. I bet you’d squirm so pretty on my vibrator.”

Stiles moans loudly at that, bucking his hips into Derek’s. Derek loses his rhythm briefly, and ends up just grinding into Stiles.

“Derek,” he gasps out. “Please.”

Stiles licks the palm of his free hand and then wraps it around his dick, stripping it roughly as he keeps his hold on Braeden and starts trying to get Derek moving again with slow rolls of his hips.

“Getting close,” Braeden says, and Derek’s not sure whether it’s a statement or a question, but he answers anyway.

“Close. S’good.”

Stiles whimpers and tries to jackknife up underneath Derek, even with the way he’s bent over. Derek grabs one of Stiles’ legs and pulls it up a little higher, draping it over his shoulder as Stiles breathes out, “Thank god for extra stretchin’ at practice.”

Derek chuckles and slides into Stiles again, pleased when he gets even deeper than before.

“Sex swing would look good in here,” Braeden adds, and when Derek glances over she’s twisting the nipple of her right breast with her left hand while her right hand moves in a blur of motion over her clit. “Bet it would be just perfect. Just swing right onto your big dick, move however fast we wanted. Maybe a nice little spit roast for one of us. We could even take turns being in the middle.”

That image, the image of the three of them trading off being at the center of the other two, is what does Derek in. He lets out a whine as he rams his dick harder and faster into Stiles’ ass, that amazing, clutching heat, before he’s coming inside him with a whimpered “Ah, ah, unh, aaaaaah.”

“Did you just…?” Stiles wonders aloud, his hand briefly leaving his dick to probe around where Derek’s still thrusting gently inside him, smearing around the added wetness there before his hand goes back to jerking himself off.

Derek can’t come up with a response, still too caught up in the sensation of orgasm. It’s different than it’s been in the past, different even then it was with Braeden. It feels…muted somehow, like the pleasure is a little farther off, but it feels good in an entirely different way as his muscles twitch satisfyingly and his thoughts drift away on pleasant lassitude that starts to slowly swamp him.

“Damn, that’s just…mmm,” and Derek vaguely feels Braeden start jerking a bit beside him. He looks over at her and she’s grinning lazily, face scrunched up a little as her hand keeps moving between her legs to draw out the last of her pleasure. She falls back against the bed, the leg Stiles isn’t holding captive sliding out in front of her. She turns to look at Derek and her grin turns wicked. “Don’t just leave our bedmate hanging, Derek. S’rude.”

Derek looks back at Stiles as Braeden snakes a hand between them and rubs at Stiles’ rim where it’s stretched around Derek’s cock, making Stiles, and by extension, Derek, squirm.

“Oh, god,” Stiles almost screams.

Derek leans over and plants a clumsy kiss on the only part of Braeden he can reach, which turns out to be the top of her head.

“Gonna help?” he challenges as his hips stutter and he almost pulls all the way out of Stiles. He’s getting sensitive, sleepy too, but he wants to give Stiles just a little bit more. Stiles…Stiles deserves good things. (Sometimes, deep down, Derek admits to himself that he deserves good things as well.)

Braeden licks her lips. “How close are you, Stiles?”

“Close,” he whimpers. Braeden sits up and grabs his wrist suddenly, shoving her other hand against Derek’s shoulder (still wet from where it had been enveloped in her pussy) to stop him, too. Derek and Braeden both watch as a long string of precome drips from the tip of Stiles’ cock to connect to the dark hairs at the top of his treasure trail.

Braeden knocks Stiles’ hand away from his cock before wrapping her hand around it and pumping it three times. Then she draws it away, which Stiles promptly whines without words about. She hushes him though, and Stiles and Derek both watch frozen with interest as Braeden dips her fingers inside herself before pulling them back out, only to swipe them over the exposed part of Derek’s cock, which is now covered with his own release. She then swirls them through the pool of precome that’s accumulated on Stiles’ belly before offering the digits to Stiles.

“Fuck,” Stiles says, tilting his head up to suck Braeden’s index finger into his mouth.

“That’s right,” Braeden says, moving her finger in and out of Stiles’ mouth in an imitation of the rhythm Derek and Stiles had had going moments ago. “God, your mouth.”

She pulls her hand away from Stiles, prompting another whine, only to suck her middle finger into her own mouth. Derek feels abruptly like he can’t breathe, like someone’s punched him in the solar plexus, because there’s still a finger that’s glistening with the juices of all of them and he _wants._

When Braeden notices his blatant stare, her lips curl up around her finger and she pulls it out of her mouth with an audible _pop!_

“You want something, Derek?”

“He does,” Stiles says, and he starts rolling his hips again, fucking himself on Derek’s cock even though Derek’s starting to soften and still can’t move with the way Braeden has him restrained with just one hand. “Please, Derek. Good. S’good. So good.”

Braeden holds her hand out and Derek reaches out and grabs her wrist. It’s a little difficult to balance since his other hand is still holding Stiles’ leg over his shoulder, but he shifts his knees farther apart as he uses his hold to bring Braeden’s hand to his mouth and slowly suck her ring finger inside it.

The taste is a bit strange, heavy with salt and an odd tang, and he wishes he knew what it would taste like if his senses were right, if the flavor of all of them would have an even greater intensity as he laves it off Braeden’s finger with his tongue. But it’s still good, still _right_ in some odd way.

“Mmm,” Braeden says. “Your mouth isn’t so bad, either.”

Derek gives her finger one last lick before he smiles at both of them. “You’re incredible,” he says as he starts moving his hips again. He drops Braeden’s wrist and moves his hand down to Stiles’ cock, circling the head with his thumb and forefinger and twisting his wrist back and forth for friction.

“Come on, Stiles,” he encourages as Braeden starts pinching and twisting Stiles’ nipples lightly. “Come for us.”

He keeps thrusting as Stiles gasps loudly, hands flailing out before he catches Braeden’s right shoulder and Derek’s hair, tugs twice on what he’s captured and then comes with a whine and a twist of hips that makes Derek’s cock twitch inside Stiles.

A small dribble of come spurts out of Stiles’ cock onto his stomach, leaving a pattern over the one Braeden smeared there moments earlier. Derek keeps twisting his wrist and moving his hips until Stiles finally uses his grip on his hair to shove him away.

None of them say anything, save for Stiles gasping as Derek carefully pulls out of him. Instead, the loft is filled with the sound of heavy breathing slowing down and Derek can’t say he minds. He often doesn’t know what to say, or how to say what he really wants, so silences like this, comfortable ones that are easy with the aftermath of shared pleasure, are sort of his favorite, even if he hasn’t experienced them often.

It’s not long before Stiles breaks the silence though, but Derek can’t say that he really minds that either.

“Wow.”

Derek crawls over a bit so he can lay down at Stiles’ side with their heads next to each other. Braeden does the same on the opposite side, flipping over and dragging her pillow with her.

“No complaints over here,” she volunteers. “Granted, I didn’t get fucked, but that show and that tongue of yours…worth it.”

They both turn to Derek, almost expectantly, and he blanches at the sudden attention.

“It was…nice,” he volunteers, and then shakes his head because that wasn’t what he really wanted to say. “It was…really nice. The best, maybe.”

Stiles nods before yawning. “Definitely up there,” he murmurs sleepily, scratching at his stomach. As Derek watches, his soft expression twists a little with disgust. “Ewww. I am covered with come.”

Braeden snorts as Derek rolls his eyes.

“Still not sleeping in the wet spot,” Braeden says.

Stiles squirms a little, his hips still propped on a pillow.

“What?” Derek asks.

Stiles squirms a little more, face doing something complicated before he answers, “Your come is leaking out of me and it’s all warm and it’s sort of sexy, but sort of really disgusting and I can’t decide how I feel about it.”

Derek’s body decides how he feels about it when his cock twitches again. He calms down his reaction with a few quick recitations of “Alpha, Beta, Omega” (he’s used it before during his teenage years for the exact same scenario) before he plants a kiss on Stiles’ temple.

“How about I grab some washcloths and clean us up before we all crash out?” He can feel a yawn of his own creeping up. “There’s spare sheets in a container under the bed, or we can just spread out some towels.”

“Towels,” Stiles and Braeden respond in unison, and Derek huffs.

“Lazy.”

“Well-fucked,” Stiles corrects. “Bathroom?”

“Bathroom,” Derek confirms, but doesn’t move. After a minute of silence and non-movement on all their parts, Braeden offers, “Rest for a couple of minutes?”

Derek raises his head to look at his companions (Are they more? Does he want them to be more?) and the soft smiles on their faces.

He drops back down, slinging his right arm over Stiles’ chest and Braeden’s shoulder blade. “Couple of minutes won’t hurt,” he says and pushes at Stiles’ head with his forehead until Stiles sighs grumpily and lets him claim a little patch of his pillow.

Derek closes his eyes and breathes. He can smell Stiles’ salt-heavy sweat, and the musky perfume Braeden favors and the way they combine together with his own scent. It’s not the same mix he’d get as a werewolf, but as he takes in another breath, he thinks he can at least keep going with his friends (pack?) by his side as he gets used to it.

He nuzzles against Stiles’ neck, squeezes Braeden’s shoulder, and keeps breathing.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         


End file.
